End of the Long Road?

FIX the FINALE Challenge

End Of The Long Road?

By Sue

Rating: R, (M), Adult language and situations.
Disclaimer: Star Trek Enterprise is the property (sadly) of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made, only closure.
E-Mail: susieqla@yahoo.com
Archive: All Enterprise archives are fine.
Category: Romance
Summary: A little reworking to satisfy wish fulfillment.
Spoiler(s): “Similitude,” “Terra Prime - Part 2,” “These Are The Voyages”

Note: Whether this idea has been perpetrated by others, I have purposefully kept away from reading TATV fics to remain free of similar patterns of thought. Any similarities in content are completely coincidental.

************************************************************************************

Trip, barely coherent, was losing feeling in his hand. T’Pol held it fiercely, his T’Pol, who looked as though her emotions were tearing her apart, as were his. Here it was again, the day where she'd be the only one he could turn to for solace, like that other day when he'd lost his sister. And here she was, doing her best to comfort him in her own Vulcan way, once more.

Having his heart ripped from his chest was the only way he'd stop loving her.

She was constricting blood flow from his right hand for the moment, but the tingling firing within it was his grip on reality. The misery strangling his voice made him croak, "Oh, God, T’Pol, it hurts so much. God help us." His voice caught as more and more tears leaked from his eyes, and how they stung.

Trip doubled the strength of the hold he had of her hand. He sucked in a sharp breath and waited until he could speak, finding that he could. A profound calmness steadied him, and instinctively he knew its source. He remembered how his shedding of tears T’Pol found disturbing. She was like the Sphinx, but faulting her for it he'd given up long ago.

With the warmest look he could muster in his eyes, he thanked her for mainlining compassion and understanding to him. "Our little darlin' never had a chance. It's like losin' Lizzie all over again, and it hurts like hell. Worse." His head sagged way down. "She was so helpless and she was ours. *Ours*, T’Pol!"

"Elizabeth's..." The profundity of his heartache stunned T’Pol. She moved closer to Trip, leaning in so their shoulders touched. "Demise was deliberate, intentionally planned to further Paxton's xenophobic
ends. A defectively engineered example of what interspecies breeding would produce. A heinous act, one I find impossible to dismiss--ever." Through the bond she sought to comfort him as she strove to comfort herself, but he wasn't making her attempt easy. His mind was more a maze now and hers wanted nothing more than to unlock it, rid it of its torment. She could help him, help them, and helping them both was the key to going on, getting past this, she reminded herself as if the adviso were a mantra.

"I was picturin' her bein' the spitin' image of you, growin' up smart as a whip and utterly beautiful, with us by her side every step of the way." He couldn't help but sob openly when he thought about it. Convulsively, Trip blurted, "Your mom--now this! God, when does it end?"

T’Pol's affection for Trip saturated her tone and stood in her eyes. "With you," T’Pol counseled, staring into his glassy eyes of blue that had anguish roiling in them. She sensed, though, he was coming to grips with the enormity of their loss. "I won't lose you."

Trip shook his head adamantly. "That's a straight-up promise. I'm not goin' anywhere without you, my love." After sighing heavily he said, "Least you got to hold her some. Every time I asked to, and kept demandin' to see you, I was told to go freak myself since I'm so fond of doin' it with aliens." Trip squashed T’Pol's hand in
ferocity. "I swore I was gonna waste every last one of those motherless bigots!"

T’Pol's voice was fortitude itself oversewn with logic as its bedrock. "The compatibility of our DNA..." She waited, patiently, wanting to hear him say the words that had claimed her attention from the start, as though they had recalibrated her conclusions.

"Human DNA and Vulcan DNA...Phlox says there's no medical reason why they can't combine..."

Proudly, T’Pol declared, "So if a human and a Vulcan decided to have a child..."

This time when Trip uttered such fateful words again, his voice was rock steady, not racked by crippling emotion, and he dared to hope where this was heading. "It would probably be okay."

"It will be." Her feelings of wanting him closer still, closer than they already were, flooded Trip's mind, firing off one possibility after another. Lovingly he obeyed his mate's summons, bringing his forehead even with T’Pol's.

"That's sort of comforting..." he whispered against her
cheek in unqualified reiteration.

"It's more."

"So much more, darlin'," Trip concurred, reveling in the buzz of her feelings as tender as the roots of saw grass after a flash flood.

"It's a mandate." T’Pol extended her foremost fingers to Trip's, waiting for the touch of his two, craving his touch more and more. "Ours."

She had nurtured their baby for the brief time she'd had her. Elizabeth's father needed much of the same now. Gently, T’Pol eased Trip's head to her shoulder and settled into his embrace when his good arm came to rest upon her shoulders. Devotedly, she stroked his face, hearing him sigh, not so much out of grief, as he'd found a measure of peace. She languished in its discovery, allowing herself to gladden. She was responsible for turning him from agonizing thoughts to ones of protectiveness. They were, in stark reality, overprotective contemplations, but how could she deny her emotional 't'hy'la,' the man she loved, unquestionably, the release he needed?

"I wish to be the mother of your children. The bond between Elizabeth and me had begun forming."

'Crap, crap, crap!' Trip squeezed his eyes shut, the fury building within him again. 'Those murderers!'

"When that son-of-a-bitch Greaves put his pistol to your head, all I saw was me beatin'' the livin' crap out of him and kickin' him into the next century. Callin' Vulcans not human. It's rich. Way, way back when, whites, now Andorians call us 'pinkskins,' used to say the same about people with his skin color. Enslaved 'em, treated their own dogs better." The rabid nature of prejudice winded Trip, left him feeling empty. It staggered him, knowing that the sum total of what humans could be was severely diminished by such blind, virulent hatred. "Humans aren't any better than anyone else."

"Yours is a very unique species," T’Pol observed, candidly acknowledging while massaging Trip's hand.

"We have our points, but so do you. It just takes some gettin' to know each other."

T’Pol was Vulcan, and his having gotten to know her as intimately as he had, in his eyes she was who she was, and would always be...beautiful, intelligent and his. As tender with him as any human woman would have been, perhaps even more so. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and she wanted children with him. Their future happiness is what he concentrated on, choosing
to live in this moment instead of drowning in what could never be changed.

"I wasn't afraid to die," his mate assured, slowing her careful stroking of his cheek down. "This is not meant to criticize your feelings." She turned her eyes to Trip's, sensing he needed her looking into them. If their bond had been stronger, he would've realized it was all too simple for her to lose herself in his soothing pools of translucent blue, an effortless guilty pleasure.

"You don't think I knew that?"

"I knew, as well as knowing you would do everything in your power to stop them, without endangering me."

"Or our baby..." Involuntarily, he shuddered.

She held his face tenaciously for several communing moments, wonderfully transfixed. Sagely, she agreed, "Our baby."

'Kiss me, please,' Trip thought and T’Pol did, their thoughts linked even if not as seamlessly as the Vulcan would have liked.

After a hitch, he breathed deeply, praying what he was about to say came out right, everything, the whole 'enchilada,' and he wished then that they were at one of those less frequented resorts on Risa where a reasonable facsimile of the Mexican treat was served. He tried not to think about falling short, dependent upon her responses as he was, not wanting to jump to any premature conclusions. "Your death would've ensured the destruction of that facility, T’Pol. I would've taken it apart with my bare hands after tearin' every last one of those deranged bastards limb from limb."

An indomitable Trip, furious, doing just that, instantly materialized in her mind that harbored similar feelings which she kept a tight rein on. Retribution...but nothing good came from feeling the need for it. "Rash actions beget the consequences that befit such actions."

His eyes fell upon the IDIC, what he'd begun to think of as symbolizing their love, lying haphazardly in her lap. He had treasured the sight of seeing her suspend the symbol that sued for infinite diversity in infinite combinations by their innocent, doomed infant who'd valiantly tried to cling to life in the containment chamber.

The representation for the tenet which T’Pol had used as a makeshift mobile for tiny Lizzie gave him courage. He imitated what she'd been doing to his face and when hope spurred him on, he cupped her fair jaw, silently cursing the slight tremor in his hand. "There's a lot of truth in that," he offered, coming to grips with the truth it was incumbent he share with her. The truth that was burning a hole in his brain, and had made his heart incendiary.

T’Pol lifted her own hand to his and covered it over. "I once read in the ancient book which the majority of your species considers sacred how knowing the truth sets 'one free.'"

If he shared truth that was peculiar to them with her, would it liberate them from the doubts and ambiguities that so often had gotten in their way? Just put it out there and have T’Pol run with it, or dead end what he wanted them to have right in its tracks. He plucked up more courage, a courage he sensed he'd really had for quite some time, but had backed off from, till now. "I'm a man in love up to my eyeballs. If they'd murdered you, they would've killed us both on the spot. Would ya expect me to act any different?"

The slant of her eyebrow was all the incentive he needed to keep talking. "Maybe my timin's lousy, but when has it ever been great? So many times I've wanted to tell ya, but it never seemed to be the right time. The right time?" Trip laughed sardonically. "When'll that be? When either one of us dies too soon, and it never gets said?" He gauged her reaction, unreadable at best, but decided he had nothing to lose, except her never knowing how he truly felt. Before telling her, Trip brought worshipful lips close to her fragile cheek and whispered, "I love you." What had he been so afraid of? His heartfelt words sweetened the clime they shared in close proximity. Though his heart raced, he declared his feelings a second
time, with even more conviction. "T’Pol...I love you, regardless of what you feel or don't feel for me."

T’Pol quietly gasped for breath, as she'd done moments before. She loved Charles, 'Trip,' she reminded herself, so much, ferociously, she'd once caught herself thinking, but could she tell him, knowing how much he needed to hear her say the words? (Cast out fear...) The words of Soval touched her mind as they'd done ever since her dogged examination of the Kir'Shara had begun. She'd uttered her lover's name like the plea it had been for salvation before desperately grabbing his hand, doing so again. "TRIP..."

He looked at her, filled with hope and asked softly, "Yes, T’Pol?"

She melted into the intensity of his free arm's commanding embrace whose hand gripped the side of her arm as though he was about to lose her. "I..." And when she told him, nothing would ever be the same again, ever. "I love you, Trip." When her breathing normalized, she knew telling him again would be the most natural thing she could possibly do. "Love you truly, 'k'diwa.'"

Trip stared at this irresistible woman, rejoicing in all she'd just given him...the Earth, moon, sun and stars, celestial wonders which hadn't even been born yet. "Beloved," he knowingly said, a deep smile of satisfaction was his spanking stamp of endorsement. He owed a lot to the Vulcan database, but not all. "I never thought I'd ever hear you tell me so. Somehow I knew, though. You had to feel something, expressin' it in your own sweet time."

"Initially it was revulsion."

"I better not tell ya how many times I wanted to kick your sweet ass whenever you turned that cute, perky nose of yours down at me."

Blinking, then shutting her eyes, T’Pol listened to the strong rhythmic beating of his heart within his chest, throbbing in her ear. "Our hearts have merged, our hearts are one...and it is how they will remain until we're no more."

"That better be for a very long time because I plan to be with you a very, very long time."

She shared his fervent desire, along with hers that overshadowed all conscious thought. She wanted as many of his babies as he could give her, if the way of things decided to favor them. Nothing was guaranteed them, but that no longer mattered. What did matter was this man and his love for her, love that scared her but bound her to him, regardless.

"We make a hell of a team." In his mind's eye, T’Pol was giving him some very specific instructions about the proper way an intake valve must be refitted. Trip chuckled and T’Pol made him explain the reason why.

"The assessment remains valid."

'Typically analytical,' Trip thought, overcome by intense feelings of devotion. Expressing himself freely, leaving T’Pol no alternative but to reciprocate, he kissed her. Several passionate minutes later they were still at it, as though trying to see how close they could come to
draining the air out of each other's lungs.

'His kisses spark the fever in my blood,' T’Pol thought, feeling her face all a-flush. Trip took his time, but finally he dragged his lips from her neck. Sheepishly looking at him and sounding it to the tee, T’Pol confessed, "I am highly emotional."

"Apologizing? Why?"

"So much has happened, but your conclusion has merit."

"You're so beautiful, especially when you're emotional. You take my breath away whenever you're just like this. Ain't true love grand?"

"Admitting our feelings to each other is logical."

"It took the death of our precious innocent to force our hands, but what hurts so much can only make us stronger." He pulled T’Pol back against his chest and kissed the top of her head several times. His hand stroked up and down her back that possessed a backbone of steel. "You make me happy, so very happy..." Acting quickly before his nerve failed him, he tumbled to his knees, still grasping T’Pol's hand with an iron grip. "T’Pol, all the bigots can go straight to hell! What we have is for keeps. We'll fight to protect it, and be winners!"

His mate nodded in muted agreement, consummately engrossed in him and his intractable commitment to the complications and risks their personal relationship promised to place them in.

"I love you, I need you. I pledge myself to you. All I am, all I have, and hope to be is yours, sweetheart."

T’Pol lifted her hands to cradle his emotive face between them. She knew what was coming, already hearing herself make her reply. She wanted to be with him, and no one else, for as long as forever meant for them.

"T’Pol, darlin', would you consent to be--"

"YES," the anticipatory woman, clearly smitten, rushed. She read Trip was a little taken aback. With his mind fully opened to her, holding back was futile. He addled her control and T’Pol found herself going with it unstintingly now.

"You didn't let me pop the question." Trip kissed the top of her hand with a lazy smile to admonish, "Not to throw cold water, but it's customary lettin' the guy get his proposal out before he's cut off."

"Oh...I--"

"No harm, no foul. You're eager is all," Trip joked, with the widening of his eyes which saw with greater clarity. "We're alike in so many ways. It never fails to blow me away." His amazement showed, and his marveling over how easily it could be done was plain. He drew upon her, counting heavily on the wherewithal she streamed to him to overcome this tragedy, the completeness she gave him to begin a brand new chapter in their lives. Any vestiges of sorrow and grief held over had evaporated in the wake of what his lovely lady wanted with him.

T’Pol made empowerment addictive.

It was just as astounding how Trip fed it all back to her, they fed off each other, melding as one as never before. She would save an actual mind meld for later, another time. She would even save mutually meditating for a future day. Right now, all T’Pol wanted to do was dream with him. His dreams gave her musings finer definition.

"But nobody can know," Trip was quick to announce, the wheels in his mind turning at break neck speed.

"Everyone will," T’Pol stated in no uncertain terms. "They know already. We are public spectacles. Paxton saw to that."

"Exactly my point. I have other ideas." He looked her straight in the eye.

"Which are?" T’Pol mulishly held his gaze.

"From now on, things have to be different. For our own safety and the safety of any children we might bring into this partisan world, the small-minded universe outside of Starfleet, we have to lead double lives, T’Pol."

"You assume that the majority of individuals are Terra Prime sympathizers."

"Damn right I do! Terra Prime's only the tip of the iceberg, darlin'. There are dangerous people out there, hell-bent against the kind of life we want to have together. Malcolm and I have had long talks, not about us exactly, but close enough. All I heard in and around the moon-based mining facility was diatribe after diatribe of how aliens spell trouble for humans. Isolation, and if that's not enough, aggression as a deterrent, are the only ways to ensure Earth's security."

"But progress is being made. The alliance of pla--"

"An alliance...that's nice talk, but Paxton's succeeded in stirring folks up, and that's bad."

The Vulcan looked downcast, despite her resolve to appear impassive.

"T’Pol, it's the only way if we want this."

"What do you propose?" she asked with a definite lilt in her practical-sounding voice.

"I haven't figured it out all the way through, but here's a start..." He shook his head, wishing he had something more concrete, but at this stage he'd be winging it. "Bein' discreet’s the key. Bein' even more discreet than we've been up to now." He cast eyes that beseeched her.
"If anything ever happened to you, T’Pol, on account of this life we want together that could be fraught with danger, I'd never forgive myself. Yes, I want us married. I also want us safe."

"In my eyes, we're already married, my husband." She watched Trip break down a little and she placed her hand over his knee and patted. Primly, T’Pol said, "We will be safe because we'll be logical."

Bolstered, Trip nodded, rife with confidence. "Bingo. Logical never sounded so doable. Particularly since I'm keepin' company with the poster gal who could write the book on bein' just that."

"You, Trip, are...many things I find I don't wish to live without," T’Pol poignantly remarked.

"Do *you* really want this, darlin'? Bein' my family?"

"I have never wanted anything more in my entire life, 'ashayam.'"

Trip rested his head in T’Pol's lap with the IDIC up near his forehead. "Neither have I. You're it for me, T’Pol. There could never be anyone else who really gets me like you do. We're just about the two most fortunate people there could ever be. We see nothin' but the wonderful in each other and that's what keeps us comin' back for
more." Trip buried his face in the soft folds of her rich robe and felt her fingers nest in his scalp. His sigh was that of contentment.

Measuredly, T’Pol replied, "I have chosen wisely."

"That goes double for me," Trip insisted, giving her shin, once he'd slid his hand down it, a bracing grasp. He began rubbing her leg and never stopped.

"I will abide by your decisions that pertain to our life together...my husband."

Trip's heart burned within him as it banged wildly while his intestines churned in agitation. She was more than he had ever dreamed she could be. To tell T’Pol he loved her was one thing. Knowing that she reciprocated his feelings and was willing to obey him went far beyond what he had touted as being 'comforting.' "Jon..."

"Will marry us. Indeed." Archer was the crux of it all, always had been, and probably always would be. "Hoshi," T’Pol readily included.

"You share secrets." Trip turned his face up at T’Pol and smiled. She took to stroking his cheek once more.

"A curiosity of the bond, I will explain, another time." She allayed his preoccupations. Images of what the linguist had salvaged from brief psychic touches stirred in T’Pol's mind and Trip's smile broadened.

"Travis," he said, remembering what his friend blessed with piloting skills 'par excellence' had told him about marrying in haste. The farthest thing from it since Trip was marrying for love and felt as his mate did. Even as he thought this, Trip debated, but not for long. He had his answer. The less who knew, the better so T’Pol and
he would sleep soundly at night. That too brought another smile to his face. Sleeping with T’Pol on a regular basis was better than anything this side of Risa. Trip paused in thought...intrigued. Risa, there it was again, his thinking about Risa. Subconsciously, there had to be a connection. 'Risa...hmmm.'

"Doctor Phlox, of course," T’Pol rounded off.

"Well, sure, natch. He's our matchmaker and relationship counselor rolled into one." Almost gloating, Trip introduced, "Malcolm. He thinks, and always will, that your 'bum's' the best he's ever seen, anywhere."

"I have been aware for some time now how he's always appreciated from afar. Perhaps I should take to wearing robes while on duty, and save my more form-fitting attire for the privacy of our quarters."

Trip snickered. "And deprive Mal' of such a gorgeous view? I'm willin' to share," Trip teased, relishing how T’Pol gave him a stern eye which he ate up. "Can't stop a man from dreamin'. I know firsthand."

"Do you?" T’Pol challenged, the delicate corners of her mouth curving ever so slightly upwards.

"So there ya have it," Trip said, using a confirmatory tone.

"The captain, Hoshi, Travis, Malcolm Reed and Doctor Phlox." T’Pol had sounded every bit as confirmatory as her mate.

"Our witnesses. Them and *only* them."

"Agreed. But I must point out, one way or another, Chef will learn of our plans and prepare appropriate foods for what is customary after weddings, the reception."

Trip, after kissing T’Pol thoroughly disclosed, "I’ve got it covered."

"Does your coverage include his staff?"

"It includes everybody."

“Everybody?”

Neither of them spoke for a time until Trip opened up, "So here's the deal. We have the ceremony, we go ahead with the reception...and not more than fifteen minutes in, we have a terrible, I mean a terrible fight. You say some pretty hurtful things, like I've got the stinkiest feet you've ever had the misfortune to gag on, I'm a hick...and then you tell me to drop dead."

"I could never want that," she objected. "What would be the logic?"

T’Pol looked very close to being frustrated, with Trip rushing to say, "You don't mean it. You're pretendin'." Satisfied she understood, or imagined she did, he said, "I gotta get the last word in and tell ya, your elfie, pointed ears are the stuff of nightmares. They make me
sick--"

Taken aback, but taking great pains not to show it this time, T’Pol commented, "I am not averse to having my ears surgically altered if that is your wish, beloved."

Horrified, Trip gawked at T’Pol. Remonstrating, he impatiently threw up the only hand he could. He'd always suspected she was self-conscious about those peaked beauties, one of the most attractive parts of herself. Scathingly, he jeered, "Absolutely not! Don't you dare! Not under *any* circumstances--ever. I'm crazy for your ears. How many times have I told you how much they turn me on." Sternly, he reminded her, "We're only *playin'*, T’Pol. Makin' believe we're breakin' it off, goin' our separate ways. Like we made the biggest mistake, thought better of it and decided to end it before goin' any further. We have to act the part so it'll be believed by *everyone.*
Understand?"

"Subterfuge." Then more to herself she softly intoned, "A masquerade." His scheme smacked of being illogical. "Why such pretense, having a wedding performed? We could end our relationship without being married."

"It's more dramatic this way," Trip contended, his eyes dancing. "It's our big blow-out to really throw even our friends way off." He sat back down beside her. "Just follow my lead and we'll do fine." Sensuously, he guided T’Pol back to where he'd left off, kissing her until those arousing ears of hers were all tingly, which, and he was
at a loss for knowing why, he felt.

Asking Trip to stay with her this night that might have been dismal was second nature; he was here for her, she was there for him.

Before they fell asleep, with T’Pol cradling Trip in her arms, he murmured huskily, "We play our cards right, darlin', watchin' what we do, what we say, how we say it when we know we're bein' overheard or observed, we could win Academy Awards for best roles played by two people deeply in love and not a soul suspects."

"Starfleet Academy? Dispensing awards to us? Explain."

"The *Motion Picture* Academy of *Arts and Sciences*. Each year, they hand over little golden statuettes, 'Oscars,' for cinematic excellence in various categories. For *movies,* T’Pol. Movies. We always watched when I was a kid. When I can get my hands on file footage, I still do. It's excitin' to see awards presented to actors and
actresses for great performances."

"I'm not an actress." Her tone suggested otherwise as what she'd pointed out was said with unmitigated finality.

"You sure fooled me. I've seen you fake it before, lots of times" Trip said, barely suppressing a wicked grin.

"As you instructed, 'k'diwa,' I'll follow your lead."

What T’Pol was doing struck Trip as being funny, as though she was trying to fluff up his chest before resting her head upon it. He started chuckling and T’Pol burrowed in tighter. "Yup, star-crossed and lovin' it...that's us." Sounding more serious he declared, "Love you...always will."

"I share the emotion for the comparable span of time." Then, sounding irrevocable, she said, "Goodnight."

Trip wished her the same directly in her ear.

0x0x0x0x0x

Six Years Later...

Over the comm, Archer had just spoken to them. Soon, their destination would come up on the scopes. When it did, Travis was to follow the lead vessel in.

Giving T’Pol the eye, Trip waited. It was not difficult for the Vulcan to know what he expected. Thus far, the trip to Rigel 10 to rescue Shran's daughter was uneventful, and time seemed to lag in the shuttlepod. The look on Trip's face spoke volumes. Her conspiratorial mate wanted her to 'make it good' for those on hand. It was of some interest to her how following his lead over the years had become artless. The two were pros at this stage, and the entire crew were none the wiser much to the pretenders' delight.

"Have you been down to see Chef yet?"

"First thing this morning. You?"

T’Pol nodded. "He talked about you."

"Me?" Now that was a surprise.

"Us..."

"What about us?" Trip gave T’Pol his undivided attention, which was never faked.

"It's not important."

Trip laughed, eating the red herring banter up. "Why'd you bring it up then?"

'Here it goes for as many times,' T’Pol reflected. "Do you ever miss me?"

Trip cocked his head, liking how she'd put it this time. "You mean..."

"*Yes.*"

"Do ya know how long it's been?" 'Since last night,' Trip thought back, and hastened to add, 'and baby just when I think you can't be any hotter, you incinerate my balls!.' Salacious and true, T’Pol wore him out regularly. She made love like a whore and he sported bites and scratches aplenty to prove it. Good thing the uniform was a comprehensive cover-up. Her 'Pon Farr' hadn't even come yet.

"That's not what I asked you."

"Well, uh, yeah, I guess...sometimes." 'All the time. When you get that witchy look in your eye, I'm good to roll.'

"I haven't thought about those days in a long time," T’Pol prevaricated, and quite skillfully too, Trip judged, greatly impressed, as he normally was.

"Benefit of bein' a Vulcan," he lobbed carelessly, liking how T’Pol's eyes flashed. 'She should save it for later,' he silently advised.

"After speaking with Chef, I realized we may never see each other again."

It was murder keeping a straight face with her being as stone serious as she was. 'Oscar for you, for sure, my honey,' Trip highly esteemed. 'Just wait till tonight when I push your envelope...' "What are you talkin' about?"

T’Pol's heart was in this with its every beat. "We're taking different assignments..." Suddenly, she had no idea what to say next, and somehow her face conveyed it. Then she felt the resourceful certainty of her husband's steadying influence set her aright. "There's...no way of...knowing..."

Trip, as deadpan as his wife could say things corrected her. "There's *every* way of knowing." If he wasn't careful, he'd be hugging the life out of his convincing wife; she could get to him ridiculously easily. "I can guarantee you we're not gonna lose touch." 'Wait till
tonight,' he wryly thought again, 'I'll be touchin' ya like crazy once we're blissfully alone and wonderfully naked!' He raised his eyebrow, nudging her. "Stop thinkin' like that."

Her handsome husband had the gift for touching her heart, and T’Pol loved Trip every bit as much as he loved her. Sounding shaken, she spoke, "However long it may be, I believe I am going to miss you."

Too bad they weren't traveling alone at a time like this, what with the audience they had on hand, sitting there as big as life. Trip looked away before the desire to take T’Pol in his arms and smother her with kisses drove him to do it. More so now, her inner beauty was what made him reel, although her physical charms were still as potent as ever.

(When I get through with you tonight, darlin,' missin' me'll be the last thing on your mind.)

Humbly, her smooth words languished in his mind...(I love you, Trip.)

Trip's eyes teared, so he blinked rapidly.

(T’Pol, we could be married for a zillion years, and I still wouldn't be over you. I'll never be over you, ever.)

"Nor will I," T’Pol quietly hushed to him, as she caught the MACO looking at them thoughtfully as though he had a bet on them and he'd won.

x0x0x0x0x0

It was late, and still Trip hadn't come yet. He was most likely with the captain, perhaps going over parts of his speech that still needed work. The newly-formed alliance of united planets expected a polished
presentation preceding the signing of the charter. Delivering the historic discourse before an audience of distinguished attendees and their guests unnerved Archer. He wished they had chosen someone else, although he knew what a great honor it was to have been selected. T’Pol had offered some suggestions, and Archer had taken most of them under advisement.

T’Pol paced, a habit she wasn't aware she had acquired, but one others couldn't help but notice over the years. The years, she mused, where had they gone, and so quickly? Here it was, Enterprise's final mission, history. The ship was bringing its celebrated captain and crew home, scheduled for being decommissioned.

Shran and his daughter were still aboard. She wasn’t sure when he and his azure-hued child would be leaving.

Aside from everything else that awaited the couple that had managed to keep the private side of their relationship confidential, something even more pressing would affect every subsequent decision Trip and she would make from here on out. And though T’Pol reasoned she should feel a great sense of accomplishment, foreboding colored her mood.

(Trip, I must speak with you...stop doing whatever it is you think can't wait until tomorrow and come home.)

She said that over and over in her mind until it wasn't too long before her door opened. In walked Trip, looking tired, but not too tired to give her a smile.

"You waited up?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong?"

"I cannot continue with this masquerade of yours."

"Of ours," Trip emphasized, not wanting to have this conversation right now. All he wanted to do was stretch out on the bunk with his wife draped over him.
"Somethin' happen today?"

"Yes," was T’Pol's definitive answer.

"Okay, like what?"

She saw no reason for not being direct. "Pregnancy. I bear your child." A dam had burst, in T’Pol's mind, and the gush of unbound waters swept over her in release. "Our secret will no longer be secret once the change in my appearance becomes obvious."

"This is one for the books," Trip spewed, as flippant as her announcement didn't warrant. They wanted a child, and had been intimate every chance they got, and T’Pol was pregnant! The lame look on his face was the biggest giveaway that he hadn't counted on this 'wild card' turn of events. "I thought you couldn't get pregnant without medical intervention...in vitro fertilization."

"Regardless of what was supposed, the fact remains I'm going to have your baby," T’Pol said, having Trip dead to rights. "Our bond is strong. Perhaps it is largely responsible for my current condition. I am Vulcan...and stranger things have happened."

Boy, did he know that was right. "How long have ya known?"

"I had my suppositions, but it was confirmed today." She placed a hand over her belly that was sheathed in a tank top. "You are displeased," T’Pol accused.

"Where're ya gettin' that from?" He ushered her into his arms and led her to their bunk, encouraging they sit. "Do I look unhappy?"

"Yes," T’Pol returned, pointblank.

"Okay, I don't hide it as well as you. You've just thrown me for a loop, darlin'..." his voice trailed and he couldn't help thinking out loud. "Well, there ya go. Looks like we really are an experiment, after all," he judged, scrunching his lips off to one side.

"The blame is mine is your thought," T’Pol said, recoiling from his touch.

"You know me better than that. Course I don't. It took my contribution too, ya know." Trip grew contemplative then asked, "Phlox's sure?"

T’Pol gave him one of her standard, 'of course, how could it be otherwise?' looks.

"Okay, okay. I get the message."

"The doctor is delighted, mystified, but delighted. We are quite the remarkable exceptions, he says."

"Wouldn't ya know it..."

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"This alters everything."

Feeling perplexed, but trying hard not to show it, Trip goaded, "Ya think?" Then he quickly apologized for his flippancy which was ticking T’Pol off. "I know, I know."

"My being pregnant will hardly convince anyone we broke it off." She eyed Trip skeptically. "And when the baby is born and has the color of your eyes, all...as you would say...bets are off."

"Don't forget gracefully peaked ears." He kissed her forehead, then rubbed her cheek oozing affection which slowed his roll.

"What are your true feelings?"

"My true feelin's? Let's celebrate, that's it in a nutshell. We've been given another chance, and this time nothing, no one, no how is gonna deprive us of what's rightfully ours. That's my promise to ya, T’Pol. You're a mother again, and this time it's for keeps! It's gonna be okay, I promise." He took her hand in his, placed their
hands upon her stomach and kissed her cheek. Nearly six years ago to the day he had proposed to her, and here they were, destined to be parents again.

Cryptically, he uttered those fateful words that had brought them this far. "I've got other ideas."

The option he had conceived long before this baby was even a gleam in his eye coaxed a smile to his lips. Try as subtly as she did, T’Pol was at a lost for knowing exactly what lurked in that tricky brain of his.

“Where are you going?”

“There’s somethin’ I need to speak to the cap’n about, and it can’t wait.” Not bothering to explain further, Trip rushed out.

0x0x0x0x0x0

Trip waited for Jonathan Archer to calm down which didn't look to be anytime soon. A ripe beet had nothing on the captain. He was madder than a nest of antagonized hornets, much the way they were when Charlie Tucker the Third used to throw rocks at their nest and wait to see how fast he could outrun the horde. The chief engineer expected his superior and bosom buddy to blow his top, but not this bad. "Now, Cap'n--"

"I'd expect something like this from Shran, but not from you." Archer's delivery had all the earmarks of a runaway train. "It's not so much the fact that you've, and I'm sure T’Pol balked every step of the way, been lying to all of us. What really bites is you don't trust me. How long have we been friends?"

"A long, long time, Cap'n," Trip retorted, sounding defeated. "And it's not a matter of trust."

"Then what *is* it then?" The captain wheeled around from his viewport, not expecting an answer that would excuse his officer.

"Losin' Elizabeth grounded us, Jon. Forced us to come to terms that just because T’Pol and I know we're right for each other doesn't mean we'd be accepted. They planted a spy, you remember."

Archer thought that over, knowing his friend had a salient point. He'd had his suspicions all these years, despite the annulment Trip had sworn he and T’Pol would have to get. Had they gotten one? The captain's mind filled with more speculation, not less. Relaxing his tone a fraction though, he broached, "How far along is she?"

"Not even a month. She just told me. Day before yesterday."

"How long is Vulcan gestation?"

"Accordin' to the database, somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve to fifteen months."

Archer's eyebrows reached for his hairline. "That long."

Trip shrugged. "Maybe yes, maybe no. The fetus is half human, so maybe development won't take as long. We'll just have to wait and see." Which brought Trip to the true reason why he needed to speak with Archer at this critical juncture. "Cap'n, I need a favor." Trip looked at his friend hopefully.

"I'd be delighted to be godfather." Suddenly then, Archer looked pleased.

Stammering, Trip replied, "Oh, sure, Cap'n." The Tucker smile faltered a bit. "Uh...who else? But that's not the favor."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a big one. The biggest."

"Trip," Archer said testily, putting a definitive end to his pacing.

"Okay, okay. Now hear me out." Tentatively, Trip began, "Ya see... what Shran did convinced me once and for all of the rightness of my decision I'd made some time ago."

"Shran? What's he done now?" Archer asked, sounding cranky.

"Convinced me that my idea’s a go and should be set in motion right away.”

"Your being more specific would certainly give me a *better idea* what this favor of yours entails." The captain sat on the edge of his desk with arms folded across his chest.

Taking a cue from Jon's body language, Trip rose from his seat and adopted his wife's position, his arms went behind his back with hands clasped. 'No more beating around the bush,' he told himself. "Cap'n, I want to fake my own death. The timin' couldn't be better what with our imminent decommissioning and we, the crew movin' on with our lives. Gettin' assigned elsewhere."

Jonathan Archer's eyes bugged, then went wide as his gaze grilled Trip's hope-filled face. He used a tone that blared it was a foregone conclusion. Trip had lost his mind. "YOU WHAT?"

"Sure, you're wonderin' how my death can be pulled off. Phlox to the rescue, once again, his bein' on board. The Lyssarrian Desert Larvae, now the simbiote he hyper-accelerated the growth of, is good to go. Took less than a week to grow another me. Luckiest thing he picked up another one of those wonders when he did. In some market on--"

"Simbiote!" Archer scrutinized the man, the lunatic, who knew his way around a warp engine blindfolded. The captain appeared stricken beyond comprehension. "What the hell are you running off at the mouth about?"

His wife's influence having definitely rubbed off on him, Trip placidly replied, "Not even T’Pol knows, don't want her to until I say. You're the only one I've confided in, Jon. And Phlox, of course."

"TRIP!" So help him, he was going to shake his chief engineer from top to bottom if he didn't get to the point!

The younger man put up his hands, making halting motions. "Okay, okay. Here it is in a nutshell. The sim bites the phase blast instead of me, leaving me free to drop out of sight. It's gonna be murder on T’Pol, but you'll help her get through my 'death.' Once we reach Earth and I arrange transport, I go to Risa. You deliver your speech, then...now here's where you come in...you bring T’Pol to Risa so we can rendezvous. I'll get the coordinates to ya. I think T’Pol and I should live there, away from judgmental eyes and biased attitudes that could get us both killed, for real. Nobody cares who's with who on Risa, but it's up to T’Pol--"

"Unlike this, your nutsy idea."

"It's not nuts," Trip disputed. "Makes perfect sense, perfectly logical as my better half would say. Whatever she says goes after my 'return from the dead.'"

"Better half..."

"Yeah. We never actually went through with that annulment. We staged that phony break-up. We wanted to convince everyone we officially split up. Did a great job of it too, if I do say so myself."

His commanding officer just stared at him bluntly. There wasn't a doubt in Archer's mind. "Of all the..." His second officer *had* gone completely mad on purpose. Nevertheless, Jonathan's curiosity got the better of him. "Where's this so-called replacement?"

Approvingly, Trip responded, "In Sickbay, natch, where Phlox has been keepin' him under tight wraps till I give him the word to let 'Charles, Trip, Tucker the Third to the second power assume my identity. I'll hide out here in Sickbay."

"And you expect me to--"

"Please, Jon, I'm askin' ya as a friend. Keep an open mind about this. Don't ya want T’Pol and me to be happy, and alive so you can come visit us and your godchild?"

"Happy, yes, stark raving, no."

Trip edged himself to the door. "Come meet him. His sense of humor needs work, but overall, he grows on ya, like me." Chortling, Trip egged the captain on.

Archer shrugged, despite his still feeling somewhat irritated with his best fried, he was already resigned, having to admit Trip had no qualms about going out on a limb to ensure the safety of the woman he truly loved as well as the welfare of their unborn child. 'What a
conniver,' the hero of the Xindi conflict pondered. 'Shran hasn't a thing on him.' Though he might still have had a problem coming to terms with the same dilemma he'd had with the first sim’ and its survival, Archer made his concession.

"Your having taken it this far, what choice do I have but to go along? And have me thought of as the fly in the ointment, so to speak?"

"Cap'n, believe me, I thought long and hard about tellin' ya from the beginning, but, uh, I wasn't sure you'd be okay with it."

"Excellent hunch." Archer relented, seeing the length of the pins and needles his friend was on. "All right, Mister flimflam man. Take me to your misleader..."

x0x0x0x0x0

'Trip' extended his hand to Archer, and the captain, briefly hesitating, shook it with the doctor and the true chief engineer looking on agreeably. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain."

Archer wasn't sure it was the same for him, but he returned the simbiote's cordial greeting, if not somewhat subdued. Not mincing words, he asked, "Are you sure you're up to this, uh...uh?" Floundering, the captain looked to the two conspirators who basked in their individual senses
of accomplishment.

Coming to his assistance, Phlox symbiotically supplied, "We've taken to calling him Biot, Captain. Not Sim for obvious reasons." Reasons especially the doctor and the captain held in common.

To Phlox Archer asked in a very low aside, "Did you become as attached as you did with the first one?"

To which the Denobulan cracked his face wide with a smile. "No, Captain. The nature of the request, coupled with doing whatever I could to ensure that T’Pol and Commander Tucker are permitted to live a secure life tempered my personal involvement."

Jon mulled that over a bit before learning the exact orchestration of events. "Now what?"

Trip began peeling himself out of his uniform, handed it over to Biot and watched the double don his clothes. "You came in here with me, Cap'n, but you leave with him."

What disturbed Archer most surfaced and was voiced in no uncertain terms. "He knows what's in store for him?"

Human, standing in his stocking feet and his t-shirt and briefs, along with the prepping Denobulan supplied in unison, "Unquestionably, he knows."

"Does he know when?"

To that too Phlox and Trip nodded.

"When?" Archer persisted.

"The story'll go that an intruder, managing to get aboard, went undetected. To save you, Cap'n, I'll—I mean *he'll* sacrifice himself. In reality...here, take this." Trip handed Archer a pistol which he'd picked up from the Armory the day before yesterday. "You'll give him this, and he'll inflict the lethal discharge on himself."

Archer's gut reaction made him wince. Why did this leave such a bad taste in his mouth, worse than the one he'd had with Sim's demise? "Isn't--"

"It's what I've been groomed for, Cap-tain Archer." Jon blinked, not hearing the drawl so pronounced. "Please, let me do my job," Biot compelled, penetrating one with his eyes the way Trip could. "I've come to know Trip quite well over the past several weeks. He's told me the whole story. I admire his determination and drive to let nothing or no one dictate to him. I feel the same way. From the short time of being alive, I've come to appreciate making the hard choices is what counts."

Trip got a little misty-eyed, seeing, hearing so much of himself in every one of Biot's nuances.

Archer didn't recognize his own voice when he heard himself say, "Then go for it..." Who was he to stand in the way of his friends' ultimate future? They deserved happiness despite being of different species. He did and always would wish them all the best.

"Thanks so much, Cap'n," Trip effused, wiping his eyes drier.

"Captain," Phlox piped up cheerily, "You're a man well-suited for making those very same hard decisions the crew commends and has come to rely on you for." The Denobulan steeple his fingers in a sanctioning gesture.

Giving Phlox, then Trip and finally Biot a passing glance before leading the simbiote out, Archer considered the alarming role he'd played in moving his people to make the most surreal decisions they'd made over the years. This latest one of Trip's took the proverbial cake! Talk about waaaaay out there...no doubt about it, it was the mother and father of all winners, even eclipsing Shran's ruse.

Jonathan seriously doubted he'd be able to convince T’Pol her man had died, the way he cared about her, once the fix was in. He told himself he could do it, though.

As he and Biot walked out side-by-side, he couldn't help giving the clone sideway glances full of reservations. To the being whose fate was sealed, Archer said, "If you're anything at all like Trip, you enjoy whiskey."

"A proper send-off," Biot conceded.

"Guess you could say that. This way. We'll make a real toast out of it."

"Aye, Captain. Whatever you say."

As they traveled to get the libations, Archer mused that perhaps decommissioning Enterprise had its merits, in the long run. There came a time in the history of every crew when it was time for saying goodbye...

0x0x0x0x0x

Several Days Later...

'Trip' was dead and everyone aboard Enterprise reeled in shock. It had all happened so horrifically fast. The kidnappers had come looking for Shran and his daughter, having scanned Enterprise for their biosigns. The real chief engineer's made-up scenario had all too fantastically morphed into reality.

Use of the phase pistol the real Tucker had given 'Trip' never materialized. No sooner had one of the renegades knocked Archer out, on pain of his being killed, Biot was leading the others to the juncture he, having the real Trip's knowledge of structural integrity, knew would not only save the captain but end his brief life as well.
The comm station had been anything but, once 'Trip' made his lethal move.

After the terrific explosion, the intruders that had gone with Biot lay dead in the corridor. Archer had gradually revived when security came along to take out the intruder who had remained behind with him. The captain had gone to see the devastating result of Biot's actions. The
double wasn't dead, not yet, but near enough to it. There was a chance, a slim one, that the simbiote might pull through, even though that wasn't what was supposed to happen.

Though badly burned and wheezing through charred lungs that had been thoroughly thermalized, 'Trip,' after being yanked off the biobed and then placed on the hyperbaric imaging chamber's pallet, winked at Phlox and Archer both as though saying it would be all right. Which it wasn't, the clone died not long after being placed in the
fully-sequenced chamber. The death was officially called at 18:40 hours.

Phlox looked to Archer and the captain stared back at him. The real Trip Tucker peeked from around one of Sickbay's furthermost curtained sections. All three of them just gawked at each other, thoroughly at a loss for words. Their silence somehow conveyed how close the real Chief of Engineering might have come to being no more this day if it hadn't been for a last minute substitution.

Warily, Archer advised Trip before heading out of Sickbay, "Keep out of sight."

"Aye, Cap'n, I aim to."

There was only one destination Jon had in mind. She'd demand to see Trip and, within his head, Jonathan already knew what he would say: "He's ruined beyond recognition. It's not the way you want to remember him."

Sounding as contrite as any man pulling a 'fast one' should, Trip said, "If she cries, Cap'n, I wanna know. And if she does, hold her tight for me."

Over his shoulder, Archer threw a solemn look his friend's way and promised, "Will do, old friend. I certainly will."

Seeing the captain leave, reluctantly, Tucker disappeared behind the curtain with Phlox looking on, the physician not feeling the need to make comment. Wringing his hands, Trip hoped, though it should have been obvious to his two confidants, that he was doing the right thing.
"Doc," he called out. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind makin' a trip to the Mess? A light snack'd be nice, sorta tie me over till dinner."

Brightly, Phlox rejoined, "Of course, Mister, Tucker, no trouble at all. Anything in particular you'd like?"

After a sigh, Trip sounded as though he was thinking aloud. "You're not gonna believe this, but some plomeek broth would really hit the spot."

"One brimming bowl coming right up, Commander. I see T’Pol has made culinary inroads with you as well."

"You could say that. I don't hate vegetables as much as I used to." Trip beamed. "Thanks, Phlox. I'll mind the store behind the scenes, so to speak, while you're gone."

"I'll return shortly. I suggest you do as the captain advised and keep strictly out of sight."

"I plan to, I plan to..." As Trip stood surveying the sterile-looking walls of his temporary quarters, his heart, mind and soul were with his wife. He was cautious, though, careful not to think about her too deeply. The last thing he needed was the bond giving him away.

x0x0x0x0x0

Several More Days Later...

Archer had just seen Shran and his daughter off. They had remained long enough to attend ‘Trip’s’ funeral. It was with some trepidation that he was going to his next appointment.

T’Pol hugged Trip's blanket to herself then brought it up to her nose, inhaling its telltale odor, and was lost in its intoxicating effect. 'Trip...' she lamented.

"Need help?"

T’Pol looked away from the photograph of Trip scuba diving off the Florida Keys. She had barely heard the captain enter her mate's former quarters. Her broken heart ached for the only man she had ever
allowed touch her the way Trip had.

"No thank you," she retorted, sounding as icy as a frozen pond in Minnesota, courtesy it being the dead of winter.

Gently, cursing himself for having promised Trip that he wouldn't say anything until he had brought her to Risa, Archer asked, "For his parents?"

T’Pol chose to ignore him, the answer being obvious. It was illogical for her hold on to these mementos. She needed no such tangibles to remember Trip by. She was having his child. She'd recall everything about him through their living legacy. "Will they be coming to the
ceremony?" Should she tell the captain she was pregnant? She wondered.

Little did T’Pol know...

Certainly, she was going to tell Trip's parents. Trip had been her family, and now so were his 'folks,' she could almost hear him say.

"I told them I thought Trip wouldn't want it any other way." 'God, I've got to tell her!' Archer going back on his word was moments away from being fact. He held his tongue, though, spying something that brought his friend's sense of humor home to him, and he chuckled. "Don't forget this..." He thrust the model of Frankenstein at T’Pol.

Looking at the replica thoughtfully, T’Pol gave an imperceptive shiver. Her mind was swamped by memories of 'movie night' accentuated with salty popcorn and old horror films. How he used to love spilling what came next when she asked him not to. She caught herself pining. 'I'll miss you forever, 'k'diwa,'' T’Pol realized, poking at Frankie's' outstretched hands with her forefinger.

"I'd like to meet them."

A questioning, appreciative facial expression was Archer's initial response. "His parents?"

"Yes," and T’Pol repeated, "I'd like to meet them."

Objectively, the captain replied, "They're a little eccentric." Then jocularly, he informed, "I think you'll see where Trip got his sense of humor."

Impassively, T’Pol followed up, "My mother was somewhat eccentric, as well." Which was probably why she and Trip had gotten on as well as they had, T’Pol judged.

Nodding, Archer concurred, "I remember." Why had he ever made that stupid promise, anyway?

Changing tact somewhat, T’Pol began, "Trip told me as the years went by that I would miss her less. But he was wrong, because I find myself missing her more." 'And now I have you to miss as well, Trip. Your death was needless...' "Why would he tell me that?" T’Pol actually looked distraught.

Taking a seat as she had done, Archer tried to meliorate the fatalistic spin their conversation had taken. "Time heals all wounds, but...absence makes the heart grow fonder." Sounding defeated, he added, "I guess it's a little tricky. Emotions have a way of contradicting themselves." He hoped he'd sounded hopeful, at least
for her sake, knowing ending this pretense was the compassionate thing to do.

Glumly, T’Pol said, "And you wonder why we suppress them."

Sounding seasoned by what the years had revealed to him, Archer introduced, "When I took command ten years ago, I saw myself as an explorer..." By the time Archer had finished by saying, "And now Trip is dead." The lump in his throat felt too real to be imaginary. 'What are you waiting for, dammit, tell her!' Yet, instead, he hedged, "And I have to give a speech about how worthwhile it's all been..."

Pointedly, T’Pol, wanting to reach out to him, serenely opined, "Trip would be the first to say it *was* worthwhile."

The look in her eyes drove him over the edge. The voice inside ordered he tell her the truth. "T’Pol..."

"I know, Captain, he was more than my husband." Archer's gaze held fast despite his surprise. T’Pol stood by that definition of what Trip had been to her, determined now to 'rat out' her dearly-departed loved one. What was the point of hiding that fact? "He was my friend, as well."

Jonathan, nodded, emotionally flayed, too floored to say anything.

"Trip and I never had our marriage annulled."

Not missing a beat, Archer said, "I know, T’Pol. Trip told me."

The word 'impossible' exploded in her brain. She was "all ears," as her deceased spouse was always so quick to say. "Explain, Captain."

Relentless with the knowledge he possessed, Jon revealed, "I also know you're pregnant."

T’Pol, improving on the fact, sat as still as stone. How could Archer know...unless... "Captain?"

"Yes, he told me that too."

The Vulcan had the dramatic suspicion this was going to be the most significant conversation she'd ever had with Archer, barring none held previously. "And when did he tell you all of this?"

As level as he could make his voice, Jon answered, "When he came to me, asking I help him fake his own death..."

'Fake his own death' reverberated in the sepulcher-like labyrinths of T’Pol's racing mind. "The commander lives, Captain?" the Vulcan with diminishing control uttered like the fervent plea it was.

Nodding, Archer confirmed, "He's alive and well, and laying low in Sickbay."

T’Pol took to her feet in record time. "I *will* see him," she swore, already moving towards the door.

He hoped to temper her, but the look in her eyes suggested it would take some doing. "I wish you wouldn't, if only to spare him from knowing I couldn't keep my word."

"Why?" was the only word which sufficed for T’Pol.

"Why he elected to do what he did?" Archer rubbed the back of his neck which felt stiff. "To ensure you'd have a future together." Feeling for her, the captain indulged, "If you don't have to be anywhere, anytime soon, I'll explain at length..."

"I *must* see Trip!"

"*Please*, T’Pol, just hear me out first," Archer pleaded. "The only reason I broke my word to him is I couldn't bear seeing you suffer."

She was behaving as one without logic and it stopped her cold. Docilely she returned to the bunk, sat down folding her arms over her chest. Without further preamble, she commanded, "Explain. I am..." She pulsed when she said, "All ears."

0x0x0x0x0x

Archer finished detailing Trip's masterminding and the role he'd played, all the while looking and sounding like the soul of contriteness. His eyes begged T’Pol to understand and go along, at least for the time being, even voicing she do so.

"He would not wish to see me?" T’Pol asked, her intent governing the passion in her glistening eyes.

Archer wanted to hold her, but he refrained, remembering what he'd said about emotions being tricky. "Just abide by his plan a while longer. We arrive at Earth in a couple of days. Even before my obligations to the alliance are fulfilled, Trip will well be on his way to Risa. Before you can bat an eye, you and I will be on our way there too to rendezvous with him. Please, T’Pol. Can you find it in yourself to humor two men who, since day one, have done nothing but complicate your life?"

The captain groveling was a sight to behold. A bit selfishly, she was loathe to have him stop. For immediacy’s sake, however, she made the concession. "Very well, Captain, I will comply." She would deal
with her schemer of a husband--WHO WAS ALIVE!--later. It took much effort to center herself. Joy, replete, coursed through every fiber of her being. Their baby wouldn't be fatherless. T’Pol's new purpose in life was never being severed from her 'k'diwa,' ever again. She'd make it clear that he was *never* to do anything this unwise without consulting her first.

"So I can count on you?" Archer hammered home. "You'll stay clear?"

"Yes, Captain, you may...I will." Behind her back, she was doing something she'd seen Trip do many times when he'd had "other ideas..." Both fingers, of both hands, middles and indexes, were crossed, her hands too, at the wrists.

x0x0x0x0x0

Yes, in the end, it seemed to be open season on going back on one's word. T’Pol found no logic behind keeping away from her husband. Besides, she was following her instincts. The child growing inside of her needed to be close with its progenitor, and its mother needed to be close to him. Especially when never seeing him again, hearing his irreverent laughter, holding him in a fond embrace had seemed to be her lot.

Glancing over her shoulder, she hurriedly stepped inside Sickbay and paused, listening before venturing further in. Phlox was fast asleep, judging by the discordant sounds of slumber coming from his sleep chamber. Trip too was dead to the world, or in his immediate case,
medical facility.

Powerfully, his arresting scent, charged with his categorical pheromones unerringly led T’Pol to him. Seeing him alive with her own eyes brought tears to them. He was: volatile, illogical, unpredictable, emotional...and here intact, healthy, alive--still
hers. Her love for him nearly brought her to her knees.

Freely, her eyes roved his sleeping form, and instinctively her hand went to her belly. The fragile bond between her and their child strengthened. Contemplating for less than a moment, she knew what
she must do. His full, moist lips beckoned her as never before. Blindly, hers found their true mark. Trip stirred briefly, but T’Pol was undeterred. She infused the kiss with even more passion, euphoric. She did not have to live without him.

And then...

Trip, startled, came wide awake, peering into T’Pol's hooded eyes, eyes that were the windows of his soul as well. "T'--" His voice caught and when he finally found it, it came out high-pitched, as in puberty. "Pol! What the hell are ya doin' here?"

Dryly she replied, "Seeking clarification of a mix-up." She pressed her lips to his forehead and let them have their way with his flesh. Yieldingly she murmured, "You never asked me if I wanted to be a widow."

Trip clasped both his hands behind her head, roughly pulling her back to his mouth so his lips could assault hers this time around. "You're a bad girl."

"*I* am bad?"

"Come here," he ordered, his mind slickly-filled with lust.

His sense of humor having imprinted itself on her to a healthy degree, T’Pol retorted, "Isn't it why you married me?"

A little more than an hour later, blissfully sated, the Tuckers, their sheeny bodies bathed in a blanket of sweat, could successfully claim their having made wanton, animalistic love on a narrow biobed as a latest achievement. Without waking Phlox! Some feat indeed!

"You'd better go now, darlin'. Trip ran an appreciative hand down her silky front, settling its palm over her navel. "Unofficially, you disobeyed the cap'n." Trip heaved a sigh, unable to restrain himself. His hand slid lower down. Once reaching its target, he burrowed two
fingers into her thick, moist folds that felt as hot as a desert on Vulcan.

Salaciously, T’Pol swirled her pelvis, grinding herself against his fingers which deliberately stroked her clit, that precious pearl. She was thoroughly possessed by him.

"I'll go when I'm ready," T’Pol defied, nosing Trip's left nipple, not content to neglect this one after having pebbled the other so magnificently.

"Please...for me, T’Pol?" Trip throatily appealed, giving her rump a light slap with his other hand. "Next time we do this again'll be on Risa. All alone on a beach, just you and me, wearin' nothin' but our smiles." With twinkles rife in his eyes he teased, "Well, you'll do the best you can with yours."

She raised up off her mate, using her breasts to her full advantage, knowing how much he loved to claim them, wanting him again. Glorious was how she felt, trembling at the thought of his powerful thrusts shredding any control she thought she could retain.

"Same here, my sweet. You're my everythin' too. Forgive me for puttin' ya through hell? It killed me to do it, but I did it for us...all three."

Trip smiled shyly at her, his boyishness coming to the fore. T’Pol tried reining herself in, but was hopeless. Just how was she supposed to curb herself when he was fanning her flames with highly-combustible fuel? Sporting the pout that drove Trip to distraction, T’Pol pretended to acquiesce. "Very well, 'ashayam.' I, unlike you, have
complete control of my desires. I..." Quivering, she gasped. Feverishly, she ground herself against his talented fingers even harder, and nearly came. Surprise ripped through her.

Brutishly, Trip, laughing, grappled her back down to his body again, and filled his mouth with one of her perfect, divine mounds. Stopping his intense sucking long enough, he did his best to talk around his plush pacifier, "Like hell, says you."

The lust-driven Vulcan thrust her breast harder into his mouth, her pelvic exertions becoming more erratic with every rapacious gyration. Her savory moans went to both their heads.

"Good, God, woman!" Trip gurgled and T’Pol swiftly cut off his breath, suffocating him with a violent kiss.

Practiced, she snaked her hand down his sticky body until it seized upon its turgid goal that was already leaking. Brazenly, the vixenish Vulcan teased its lubed tip with long, drawn-out swipes of her thumb, rendering her inflamed spouse jelly, further. As though he were being
strangled, Trip panted like a madman. He was so rock hard he thought he'd burst. He tried mounting her, but his wife was running this show. T’Pol was merciless in her voracious ministrations. The smutty word Trip had once cavalierly used to describe sexual intercourse,
"screwing," enticed her, spurring her on. The little bites she peppered his trunk with were playful in their own lewd way.

"B-baby, p-lease...PLEASE...ughhh...m-me--in-inside you--NOW!"

The fingers that had fondled her vulva were ravaging her other breast at this stage, as though he was trying to tug it from her body.

The usually vocal members of Phlox' unique menagerie were strangely quiet. The curious creatures listened intently to the enraptured outbursts of the humanoids, gripped in the throes of fierce sexual frenzy. Human and Vulcan ardently sought to create the beast with two backs.

"You must *NEVER* die, Trip. I forbid it," T’Pol growled in his ear, licking its lobe along with giving it toothy nibbles. She blazed a torrid trail with her mouth down his neck. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, she forcefully impaled herself on his lengthy shaft which had burgeoned to immense proportions.

They saw stars, the phantasm of pure, unadulterated ecstasy as they writhed. The fullness of his filling her so completely, so firmly, was the crowning event that had a way of eclipsing even the explosive orgasms they normally shared in euphoric climax. Sex was the height,
breadth, width and depth of the universe with Trip. He was the meaning of magnificence in all his manly prowess.

"A-any--a-anything for y-you, dar--OH! OH GOD!" His hungry Vulcan continued to ride him as though he were a bucking bronc with no hint of abating.

He'd learned his lesson. If he ever got the idea to fake his own death again, he'd make sure to have her join him. This much savage lovin' could wear a man down to a nub in no time. The thought of complaining about it out loud, however, fell flat. This was the stuff he once begged for in his fantasies that would leave him horny for days.

A good half hour later T’Pol went her way to her quarters, her loins still simmering deliciously. She wore a sly, seductive smile meant solely for her. If anyone, once they got over the fact that she was smiling, were to ask, she'd baldly tell them it was none of their business...

0x0x0x0x0x

With Phlox studiously looking over the PADD he'd brought along, T’Pol scowled at Archer. Imperiously, she made it clear that Jonathan needed her help. She wrestled him over to herself, and commanded, "Please stand still." Her hands flew to the top button of his shirt, attempting to fasten it. Archer, peevish, gave her an irritated look
but held back from protesting, letting her attend him. Chunks of the speech he must soon give jumbled in his mind.

"If you hadn't waited until the last minute, you would have had time to memorize your speech," the fastidious Vulcan criticized as she warred with the button that resisted her efforts to fix it.

The tranquil waiting lounge was a calming pastel azure, to counteract the impatient audience of delegates, dignitaries and distinguished guests that waited beyond its periphery. Its walls reminded the captain of Swiss cheese aged several years. The put-upon presenter gave a weighty sigh. His speech was the keynote address, and much was expected from its deliverer.

Feeling fussy, wishing T’Pol would put an end to her nit-picking, Jonathan griped, "You sound like my ninth grade teacher." He forgot what subject, as though it mattered at a time like this.

Gingerly, Phlox raised himself from the couch he'd been relaxing on, PADD officiously in hand, and offered, "There are dignitaries here from eighteen different worlds." Just thinking about the diverse, cultures, languages and temperaments made him chuckle. "It's a good sign. I wouldn't be surprised if this alliance begins to expand
before we know it." Bowing slightly to Archer, he accorded, "You should be very proud of yourself, Captain."

Maybe later, after all the hoopla was history. For now, the wistful caretaker of the starship Enterprise just wanted to get this auspicious gala over with. The draw to look back on all this one day and feel a sense of pride was a powerful one, he had to admit, which was best left for a future time. If he didn't fumble, and had a
smooth run, the entire presentation would take no longer than twenty minutes, give or take. He hoped.

Archer rankled a bit. "I'll be proud of myself if I get this speech out in one piece." He thought about Trip, perhaps just reaching Risa now, wishing he could have skipped this and, along with T’Pol, joined him instead.

Phlox, a trifle taken back, but good-naturedly nevertheless, said, "That's not what I meant."

Chastened to an extent by the doctor's humble tone, the captain enjoined, "I know what you meant, Phlox, and I appreciate it." He hit the nail squarely on the head. "But--this is not about me."

Rankled to a degree herself, but expert at tamping down her true feelings, T’Pol was quick to lodge, "Why do so many humans refuse to take credit where credit is due?" Her husband rarely burdened himself with such flimsy misconceptions. She chose her words carefully and were said with intonation as smooth as Talaxian silk. "There are times when modesty and humility are quite illogical." She reflected on what had taken place between Trip and herself in Sickbay. Over and over she'd told him how exquisite he was, and he'd just crowed, lapping her adoration up, although, he didn't deny how easy she made
it for him to be her tireless, satiated lover. More times than not, always up for more...

Her comment won her a huge smile from Archer.

Unobtrusively, an escort approached the preoccupied party of three and solicited Archer, "Whenever you're ready, sir..."

That was Phlox' cue to take himself where he needed to be, or he'd have much explaining to do. "Well, I've got three wives waiting. I'd better go and join them." His tone congratulatory, he anchored his hand on Archer's shoulder and bestowed, "I'd wish you good luck, Captain, but you've always had an ample supply."

Grateful, Archer said, "Thank you, Doctor." He watched the Denobulan, a tried, trusted and true friend, leave them.

To the radiant Vulcan regarding him with watchful eyes, he suggested, "You'd better get out there. You don't want to miss me screwing this thing up."

Hearing him use the word, "screwing" flushed a shock of bright green to her dewy cheeks, and T’Pol nearly swooned. Mental images of passionate lovemaking weakened her in the knees. It was all about Trip, now.

The captain wondered about her color suddenly deepening, but chose to let it go without comment. She hardly trusted the steadiness of her voice, but she had to answer him. "I'm going to remain down here, if you don't mind."

He did, but he wasn't going to make an issue out of it. She'd been through so much lately. Sounding tolerant, Archer replied, "You never did like crowds, did you?" Giving her an accommodating look, he conveyed he really understood.

Before he prepared to make his way out to the noisy throng, demanding to be enthralled, T’Pol, with her winsome face upturned, pushed out, "You look..." She racked her brain for a suitable sentiment. "Very heroic."

Hesitating on the red velvet-carpeted steps, Archer halted his ascent. The vacillation in her small voice nearly broke his heart. 'Friends for life,' echoed in his mind as he not only contemplated the excellent woman standing as straight as a ramrod before him, but also her scamp of a husband, who hadn't met an untimely end all too early. Travis Mayweather, Hoshi Sato, Malcolm Reed, and the Denobulan medical genius, Phlox, were nestled in his brain as well. 'Indeed, as she would say, I'm damn lucky to have them all!'

Resolutely, Archer reared up, turned himself around and marched himself back down the steps to T’Pol. She was unable to discern his intent; the look in his eyes held hers fast. As though his arms had minds of their own, they encircled her petite body with its deceptively fragile feel. He held her tight for several unhurried moments, as though they were transfixed in time, never to separate.
The alliance and its agenda could wait. What mattered most to Archer were the intimacies he'd shared with his crew over the years.

Before drawing away from T’Pol, her delicate fragrance, clouding his mind, Jon lovingly whispered in her right ear, "Wait for me here, then. This won't take long, and we'll be on our way to Risa." He felt her gentle nod against his cheek and he wondered if she was too overcome with emotion to say anything; she breathed funny.

No doubt existed that he was. He felt T’Pol return the strength of his embrace. There was no way he'd ever stop cherishing this enigmatic woman who had taken a big chance on her shipload of, "illogical humans."

"It's a solid bet your special someone can hardly wait to see you..."

T’Pol collected herself, sensing that the captain had her pegged, which didn't unsettle her. The feelings her human, her affectionate gentleman, engendered within her felt like comfortable boots.

Would she tell Jonathan Archer that she had done what her heart had dictated and gone to Trip anyway? The journey to the pleasure planet was long enough, and maybe, just maybe, if she went with her instincts, she might divulge. She'd wait and see. Through the bond she shared with her beloved, Trip was with them too, in spirit.

A bemused Captain Archer reluctantly released T’Pol. He collected his wits and forthrightly moved off, not looking back this time. Flint-like his expression, he mounted the plush steps to take his rightful place in the annals of interstellar lore.

For all who loved him, raring, willing and able to follow wherever he led, there would never be any need for goodbyes...

End

There is a sequel: End of the Long Road? II

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

A whole mess of folks have made comments

The only thing which I didn't like, and which didn't ring true, was the happily suicidal clone. What sort of psychological torment would have to be inflicted upon a swiftly growing child (and a child it would be) to produce a man who would gladly blow his brains out? There would have to be a well thought out regimen of abuse and psychological humiliation and degradation inflicted upon the child deliberately, continually, every moment of its short life. I don't think Phlox, or Trip, could do that to a child.
Clones have become, in too many stories here and at other fanfic sites, too disposable. They are, or would be, after all, much the same as twin brothers and sisters to the characters they stem from, not handily disposable androids, or some sort of walking, chemically produced manikins. Would Trip have killed his brother to have a life free of the Terra PRimers? Not a chance. As Sim was, they would be sentient individuals, not convenient props for a story.

Maybe the clone thought it was the right thing to do. Isn't part of the world's current problems that too many people are willing to kill themselves and others for the "right thing"?

That was a wonderful story, Sue. While I didn't watch TATV, I had read the spoilers and reviews of those who had, and I have to think that your story was a far better ending for the show than TATV. At least everyone still had their dignity in your story, as opposed to what I've read about the aired episode.

Sue, thanks for this. :) It's a different and unique perspective, and I liked it!

I'm afraid I agree with graybear. Even an intelligent being who lives only 15 days is a life, and I don't think that Trip, Phlox or the Captain would be so cavalier about sacrificing an intelligent life form just to fake Trip's death. It's a convenience that the clone seemed to be willing to die for Trip, but that still doesn't make it right. I liked the story for the most part, but killing the clone just doesn't work. Maybe you could do a re-write with the plan that he's gonna replace himself with the clone and go into hiding with T'pol. After all, the clone has his memories. Then the clone dies a heroic death protecting the captain and everyone mourns him. That would set better with me. Maybe Phlox could have even come up with a treatment that the clone could receive that would have given him a normal lifespan if he hadn't died so heroically. What do you think?

An improvment over the Finale.
I could see the Tera Primers an other like them forcin TnT to keep their relationship a secret from every one. I really liked this story,, But Im afraid I have to agree about the clone. Unlike Archer Trip would never creat a person just to have them kill themself, Or use them for spare parts,, an one of the reason's T'pol has come to love Trip over the years has been his awsome respect for life,, an if he did do this,, I think she would have a hard time dealing with this.. They story is good,,, But this clone issue is hard to accept. Yeah since it is another clone of Trip,, it might feel his sence of needin to protect T'pol an his Trips "His" child,, But I think they would of had the same problem that Archer had with Sim an his sence of self preservation kickin in.. I really thought every thing else was great,, The affection an feelins they showed to one another,, T'pols not to pleased attitude to actin,, And their willingness to do what ever it takes to be together,, Im sorry to say this but I just have a problem with the use of the clone in this.

Didn't really like this one at all; so much so, I found it hard to finish. First time I skimmed a fic in order to get it over with.

"sigh"
Yet another "real" finale.

Good story. could use a sequil.

Good story. could use a sequil.

i liked it except for the part that trip would think of growing an intelligent being just to have them killed off.
if anything trip looked striken looing down at sim .

I also found Trip's and Phlox's attitudes to the clone out of character. I don't think they would have done that, especially after what happened to Sim. It's just horrible.

I also found the 'getting over Elizabeth' far too quick. I think that would take a very long time.

I don't believe I mentioned there won't be repercussions... For those who might be willing to wait, I do have a sequel in mind that might work for some. Anyway, it's in the works...please stay tuned. Thank yous are in order for those who've read.

I agree with the other readers in that the clone being willing to die like that seems wrong (and Trip's, Archer's and Phlox's attitudes towards it.) I will definately read your sequel to see how things turn out. Interesting and unique finale fix.

I loved this piece. You should make a sequel and include the child!

Well... what can I say about this. I only read the first part, right up to the proposal, and I gotta say that I found both Trip and T'Pol *very* out of character. Some of the sentences were very poetic, but coming from Trip? Um, let's just say that when it comes to Trip, simpler is often better. No offense--getting the characters to be in-character is quite hard--but I think this fic needs a little work, and you might benefit from a good beta-reader to help your characterizations along. Please don't stop writing, though. Remember: the more you write, the better you'll get. And a good beta-reader is worth his or her weight in gold.

Sincerely,

Emily

In light of the last post, just an FYI, part 2 should be read.

In light of the last post, just an FYI, part 2 should be read.

In light of the last post, just an FYI, part 2 should be read.